"What you two prim busybodies don't appear to understand is that Miss Courteen prefers to remain with me." "Miss Courteen is not her own mistress. She is not of age," said Clare. "And pray how do you propose to make her accompany you?" "Why, in this way," interrupted Charles, shaking off his friend's arm, "in this way, Mr. Vernon. If you decline to meet me with pistols, by G---- I'll thrash you senseless with my crop." Vernon's hands twitched for a moment, but he had learned a new restraint, gained a new dignity from the wondrous ride and with scarcely a perceptible quiver in his voice begged to point out to his friend Mr. Lovely that if he shot him, he should not scruple to shoot Mr. Clare were the latter to stand in his way. "But what if you're shot, Sir?" cried Charles, betraying in his eagerness the true reason for his desire to force an instant encounter, "as by G---- you deserve to be for murdering the poor little Major." Vernon was perplexed. "The Major? Is he dead? I had nothing to do with his death." The simplicity of the denial almost convinced his listeners that he was speaking the truth. "Come, Sirrah, will you meet me? said Charles, lifting his crop. "Listen, you pair of puppies," said Vernon between his teeth. "I could have put a bullet into either of you at any time during the last five minutes, and by heavens, I don't know why I kept my finger from the trigger. Yes, I do," he shouted. "I've got a chance of happiness and I'm not going to throw it away by having your blood on my head. You're an interfering pair of fools, but I cheated one of you at cards and I played a low game over the book, and by G----, I believe my father was a gentleman. I'll meet you, Mr. Lovely, now." With these words he flung down on the grass at Charles' feet the two pistols which the skirts of his riding-coat had concealed.